Pages

Thursday, November 21, 2013

It seems like this blog's schedule is turning into a weekly one, rather than the multiple-times-a-week one that it was for oh so many years, and I've decided I'm OK with that.

It's better than the not-but-once-in-a-big-fat-who-knows-how-long one that it was for a while there, so that's good.

Also, we got a new keyboard so that I can capitalize things properly and, for that, we can all give Bubba a big inappropriate hug or high five or whatever other virtual thing you can manage because you know I'm not letting any of you whores near the awesome keyboard-replacing Bubba.

Whatever - it's that time of the week when I have two minutes to scrape together and since I have this nice keyboard with a fully functional shift key and I'm wearing my new hoodie that has thumbholes and isn't worn thin in most areas so it's keeping my fingers warm enough to type - I'm posting.

Because I'll tell you what - next week is not going to happen blog-wise. Or maybe even survival-wise since I have shit stacked up from the moment I finish this post until the Sunday following Thanksgiving and if I don't have a stroke, I'll be damned impressed.

So let the randomness abound, I say!

Random Thing #1

The bees are smarter than me

The first one of you that "Yeah, duh"s me is getting a kick to the throat, by the way.

Meanwhile - yes, the bees have outsmarted the bee "escape" that I added to their honey super (the box on top of the boxes that hold the babies...oh fuck, just read this and then remember the other times I've told you what a honey super is) and so each of the three times I've gone in there to take the super off and then collect the small but mighty harvest (it's the first season for this colony, so I'm not really supposed to have any honey at all), I've found those bitches just still wandering around, stowing honey and having some sort of MIND YOUR BUSINESS party in there.

It's annoying.

I want that super off, the honey in jars, the wax in lip balm and the bees in a big clump around the queen right in the center of the brood boxes.

But no. These whores are all, "Um, we'll do what we like and don't tell us our business."

Better keep away from Bubba is all I'm saying here. OH YEAH - and also - GET OUT OF MY SUPER.

Random Thing #2

My mother-in-law is coming to stay with us for Thanksgiving and my house is like the mother fucking Addams Family lives here

So, as you likely know, I have a cleaning lady. Her name is Flora and she is very sweet, the dog loves her, she does not know how to close a pocketknife once she's opened it out of what I'm assuming is curiosity, and she really doesn't know what the fuck a cobweb is.

Or a spider web. Or a line drawing of a spider web. Or tela de arana. Even though that is Spanish for spider web and she is a native Spanish speaker.

So, since our beloved Flora won't clean the spider webs because of her not knowing/full knowing and not wanting to get near them, we're doing it.

Because I can't roll the dice on her finally realizing what cobwebs are on Monday, when she's scheduled to "clean", and then actually cleaning them. And I can't risk my sweet and proper Southern mother-in-law being swallowed up by a spiderweb upon entering our house - the smaller and better lit Addams Family mansion.

So, Bubba and I are cleaning this week and it's an annoying task that makes me want to forget what spider webs are, too, so suddenly I understand what's going on there.

Random Thing #3

Because I like things in threes even though that makes me sound like an OCD psycho

I'm registering for the final semester of my horticulture degree right now and that was WAY too fucking fast.

Yeah. In just a few short months (though I can't bear to count it - so you can if you want. I graduate in June. Go nuts.) I'll have my horticulture degree and be launching myself off in the direction of the low-paying-though-hopefully-highly-satisfying-or-at-least-mostly-enjoyable field of horticulture.

What will I be doing? Not being a fucking farmer, that's for damn sure.

Well, not in the traditional sense, that is.

And I realize that this is sort of a big bomb to drop as a random #3 line item at the end of a random post about bees and low-performing cleaning ladies, so I promise to come back to this at some point in more depth, but for now just know - that whole thing about "I quit my job and I'm going to be a farmer" is not happening the way I imagined it would.

Like, I'm no longer planning to find some land somewhere, get a tractor and a crop rotation plan and start building beds for field crops.

No. There will be no field crops in the future of farming for me, but I'll go into why and why not and what there will be instead in a future post. I also promise to be more focused and sense-making in that future post.

OK, OK, OK - no. I'll try to be more focused since I'll admit to kinda liking this whole random thing. As long as it's still in bulleted list form.

2 comments:

All of us who care about correct capitalization (I include myself in this, obviously) thank Bubba. But I'll let you do the hugging and so forth.

In order:

1) Stupid bees. You do what Finny tells you. She needs lip balm.

2) We're hosting around 20 people for Thanksgiving, and the spiders at our house have also festively decorated for the occassion with enormous, dust-attracting webs all over the fucking place. I found one web that stretched from my boot--that I had worn less than 12 hours before!--to the table above it. So needless to say, I'll be there with you with the web-cleaning. And the everything-else-cleaning, since I don't have a Flora.

3) Woah. Hold up. JUNE? How did THAT happen? And I am suitably agog with curiosity about your future non-farming plans.

Happy Thanksgiving to the Finny house! May your day be merry and filled with pies.

I am definitely going to need more details on all of this. Also: I like Flora's strategy of "Pretend you don't understand." Maybe if I just start pretending not to understand/see what ironing looks like, someone else will take care of it?

[2013 update: You can't comment as an anonymous person anymore. Too many douchebags were leaving bullshit SPAM comments and my inbox was getting flooded, but if you're here to comment in a real way like a real person, go to it.]

Look at you commenting, that's fun.

So, here's the thing with commenting, unless you have an email address associated with your own profile, your comment will still post, but I won't have an email address with which to reply to you personally.

Sucks, right?

Anyway, to remedy this, I usually come back to my posts and post replies in the comment field with you.

But, if you ever want to email me directly to talk about pumpkins or shoes or what it's like to spend a good part of your day Swiffering - shoot me an email to finnyknitsATgmailDOTcom.